


Hogwartium

by Darkravenwrote



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Harry Potter, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Slash, Rituals, Sentient Hogwarts, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkravenwrote/pseuds/Darkravenwrote
Summary: Harry is honoured to be asked by the Headmistress to attend an ancient ritual to rejuvenate the castle during a special Yuletide celebration.Written for HDOwlPost 2019
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2019





	Hogwartium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [germankitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/germankitty/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, GermanKitty! I hope you’re having a great holiday season. I really went in for sentient Hogwarts from your wishlist because I love that too. Their careers aren’t that unusual but also aren’t like the everyfic ones either. What else? Oh and the whole fic is based around a ritual, so there’s that too. I hope you like the fic, I really enjoyed writing it. I also think it was my only owl this year that did as it was told as well, which is always nice!

Dear Mr Potter,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you are finding some success concerning the research and experiments that arose from your last visit. You have my sincerest word that the child in question has recovered fully and will happily be attending class again when the new semester arrives.

As I'm sure you are aware this coming Yuletide falls on an important astrological night for the castle. Per tradition, the entire staff will be taking part in the rite of the castle, Wartium, and I would like to personally invite you to attend as well.

Your invite will, of course, include a seat at the castle feast and festivities. The Wartium itself will take place following the students' curfew. 

Please RSVP at your leisure.

Best wishes,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Minerva, (I insist we drop the formalities)

I would be delighted to attend the Wartium and am flattered that you thought of me while planning the event. I will be unable to attend the feast in its entirety, but am grateful for your thoughtfulness. 

My research is not progressing as quickly as I would like. My original thoughts concerning the dark magics left behind in that particular part of the castle and the subsequent medical emergency are more complex than I initially thought. I am glad the student is recovering well and hope my suggestions to Madam Pomfrey were received well -- I am, of course, only an apprentice and she is the expert.

I look forward to joining you on Yuletide.

Harry.

Hogwarts opens her gates silently and warmly to Harry when he apparates to the edge of the wards late in the evening on Yuletide.

The Great Hall positively glows from within, shadows dancing merrily across the windows, as he makes his way up the winding path to the castle. The Whomping Willow shivers at him from across the lawn, although whether in greeting or reliving some past memory Harry couldn't say.

This is a familiar path for Harry to tread. Once a week he comes here to spend a day apprenticing under Madam Pomfrey. For the moment his goal is to be a healer at St Mungo's where he spends the rest of his time, but he thinks Poppy is rather hoping he will have a change of heart about taking over from her when she decides to begin her well-earned retirement.

Minerva offered him the use of her personal floo when he originally approached her with the idea, but he enjoys the walk. Rosmerta out in Hogsmeade is always happy to ply him with a satisfyingly unhealthy breakfast and the latest gossip before he arrives. He also likes to visit Hagrid on his way through the grounds knowing that his assigned lunch hour is very unlikely to actually exist.

Minerva knows he has arrived and waits for him in the entrance hall when he slips in out of the cold. She smiles at him, a sincere yet serious expression that doesn't fit with the merriment echoing through the double doors behind her. Her palm squeezes his shoulder once, reassuring and firm, and then vanishes.

"You have time to eat, Potter."

They don't exchange pleasantries and Minerva disappears into the crowd of older students swirling around the Great Hall before Harry can question her further.

He finds Poppy guarding a small crowd of drinks at the head table and being gently snowed upon. She welcomes him with a hug which feels odd with its casual intimacy -- inside the infirmary she is all business -- and a fresh glass of something sparkling and red. A pixie swoops down and adds a handful of festively frosted berries to his glass.

"You just missed Hagrid, Harry," she says over the din of the room. Harry conscientiously tries not to jump at her use of his given name.

"He went up already?"

She nods sagely. "He can't actively participate, so setting up is his contribution to the castle."

She stalks away from him moments later on the war path towards some first years who should have been in bed at least an hour ago. Harry can't help but smile when he spots the Gryffindor ties rebelliously hanging from their necks despite their formal and festively coloured robes.

Harry loiters on his own for a while, watching others enjoying themselves and picking at the platter of snacks the house elves have really outdone themselves with -- a pastry that tastes overwhelmingly of cranberry but is somehow entirely savoury is his favourite.

Just when he's starting to feel awkward, with an empty drink in his hand and no appetite, a fluffy string of tinsel settles around his shoulders. It is silver and bright and charmed not to itch on his skin and flicks against his chest excitedly where it lays.

"All alone, Potter?" Draco Malfoy asks, appearing from literally out of nowhere.

Harry jumps back against the head table, knocking it and causing several glasses to tip. Thankfully the music and joy-making around them is so loud and rambunctious no one takes any notice of them. Malfoy smiles at him like Harry has done something terribly endearing.

They don't run into each other often at the castle, which is unfortunate. Burying the hatchet and beginning a tentative friendship with Malfoy was an easy decision to make. Now the problem is they barely run in to each other and neither feels comfortable enough to overtly suggest anything. Harry only comes to Hogwarts once a week and he's usually running around the castle after injured students or locked in the infirmary. Similarly, Malfoy spends most of his biweekly visits with Minerva or watching over classes. As the Hogwarts-Ministry intermediary, Malfoy's job includes a lot of running back and forth, and writing useless reports. Or so he likes to say.

"Poppy abandoned me to chase some mischief makers."

"Bet they were Gryffindors." Malfoy grins, flicking his wand nonchalantly at the mess Harry has made on the table behind him.

Harry rolls his eyes, exaggerated but jokingly. "Because Slytherins wouldn't be caught, I know, I know."

Malfoy guffaws loudly beside him. Harry catches the flush on his cheeks then. He thought the bright lighting reflecting off the falling snow was simply making Malfoy look pink, but now he sees Malfoy has had a drink or two. His weight brushes against Harry's side, warm and solid, and Harry wishes he had an excuse for them to get together away from the castle.

The snow is slowing and the elves have stopped sending up food and drink. There's a faint heat wafting from the entrance doors, and Harry thinks it is the castle's way of ushering the students off to the comfort of their dormitories.

He catches Minerva's eye across the room and knows its time for he and Malfoy to head upstairs, while the other teachers deal with any stragglers.

He almost makes the mistake of taking Malfoy's hand to lead him away, but manages to divert and grab the sleeve of his posh green and silver -- what else, but at least it fits the season -- robes instead.

"We're going up," he murmurs as they start moving. 

He can already feel the faint throb of the castle's energy through his feet. Her energy is low and sitting deep within the rock. Harry can feel her satisfaction in harmony with her occupants. But it is time. She is starving. It explains why the staircases move lethargically compared to his own days as a student, and the secret passageways are often reluctant to open.

"The full moon does not fall on the Yule night every tenth year, Potter," Minerva had scolded disapprovingly on his last shift before the holidays, like he should know all the oldest traditions of the castle intuitively. Malfoy probably knew that too, Harry thinks, scowling.

"It's probably doubly important now," Hermione had told him without even looking up from her book when he asked her. "This is likely the first one since the rebuilding effort and the war. The castle's drained."

The astronomy tower shines with frost when they climb the steep steps inside, but the air is warm like Hagrid has lit a giant fire somewhere in the vicinity. Bells of all sizes and materials, gold and silver and brass, tinkle as they walk past, ringing out a gentle rendition of the school anthem. 

The school owls, groomed until their feathers puff with a healthy shine, have congregated on the highest viewing platform railings and look down with interest. Starlight reflects in their eyes like stars. Every time one of them shuffles on their perch, downy fluff mingles in with the pure white snowflakes blowing in from outdoors.

Hagrid has carved out a large eight-pointed star in the thin layer of snow and frost on the ground in the centre of the room. It looks bland and near invisible against the grey-white of the rest of the room, but Harry knows it won’t stay like that. Already it has a heartbeat in time with the castle’s and a faint glow coming from within -- not visible, but something Harry can feel exists.

The other teachers, when they arrive one by one after finishing their duties, are decked out in their best Yuletide attire. Poppy and Minerva, Harry spots, have made slight adjustments to their outfits by adding charmed jewellery or decorative spells on their clothing for the occasion. Harry, himself, is glad he chose his gaudy, festive robes rather than his most formal ones; he fits in rather well. 

He also spies tokens from the houses dotted around people’s clothing. Minerva hadn’t informed him he needed one, but it had felt right to slip the tassel he stole from the bottom of his bed curtains when he left school into his pocket as he marched from his house earlier in the day. He notices Malfoy stroking over a ring on his right hand and thinks that his own token might not be grand or beautiful, but it has meaning and he treasures it anyway.

The more people that step into the tower, the louder the bells jingle until a single, strong low note resounds around them underneath the cacophony. The covering of snow does not mute the sound at all, but makes the noise softer and more intimate.

“Will you partner with me?” Malfoy murmurs beside him, his voice somehow audible despite being so quiet.

“Partner?”

Malfoy gestures at the star. “Unless you’re only here for moral support?”

Minerva has already taken her place at the North point of the star. And that is when Harry notices that the full moon is shining through the highest viewing hole in the roof, precisely where the sun shines through at noon on the solstice. Its light steadily shivers across the frosted ground, picking up sparks on the floor, towards the centre of the star.

“Which point shall we take?” Harry asks, watching as Poppy smiles knowingly at him, before lowering her eyes demurely and taking a position on the Eastern point. It is only then that Harry notices how close he and Malfoy are standing, practically brushing against each other. 

He feels the lack of body heat when Malfoy moves away towards the Southeastern point, but then warm fingers tug on the silver sleeve of his robes. He follows without question.

When he leaves the astronomy tower later, he can’t remember everything that happened, and he doesn’t know how long they were in there for. He remembers worrying that he wouldn’t know what to do, and catching Poppy’s eye across the star.  _ ‘Intention,’ _ she mouthed at him.

He remembers Minerva beginning the chant when the full moon hit its zenith, and he joined in softly even though he didn’t know the words beforehand. He remembers the star shining bright and feeling the magic reaching down into the very rock the castle rests upon. 

He remembers Malfoy whispering, “This is where they used to let blood into the ground of the castle to cement the bond, but that’s, you know, considered dark magic now.” 

He remembers Minerva passing a goblet around the star instead and he thinks he tasted wine on his tongue when he sipped from it before pouring some into the moonlight. The snow remained a bright, pure white where it lands.

He remembers taking Malfoy’s hand -- and Trelawney’s on his other side -- but can’t remember why. He absolutely remembers dropping Trelawney’s hand when the chant starts up again, but not dropping Malfoy’s. He remembers feeling like no dark magic lingering within the castle’s shadowed corners could possibly survive.

He steps from the tower with the bells ringing in his ears, feathers and snow decorating his hair, and Malfoy’s palm still cupped within his own.


End file.
